Truck Stop
The sky was a grid of varying colors
none of which were visible to the naked eye
but the man vaping in the cab of an F-150
knew instinctively that he was parked
below a quadrant of the darkest magenta
the handle clicked as a door swung open
and a body hauled itself
into the passenger seat
tattoos glowing fluorescent under starlight
he remembered when their mother
sat in that exact same seat
although it was an older version of the vehicle
she had stolen a wrench when she left
a blistering of dull gray metal
that left a painful cavity in his toolbox
he heard their shallow breathing
and how it curdled in the space between them
they gave him cash and a facsimile
of an original document
handwritten in green and purple inks
he realized now that their head was shaved
back to reveal the original scarring
reflecting a deep red light
that had no apparent source.
Therapy Mouse
The mouse was dead when he saw it motionless
on the floor in front of the Barcelona daybed that he
inherited from his ex when they separated not a piece
that he would have otherwise acquired it made the front
room look like a therapist’s office and was uncomfortable
for either sitting or lying down presumably to encourage
the patient to not extend their fifty minutes to a full hour
the mouse made him pensive stretched out on
the hardwood floor with no obvious signs as to why it died
no obvious sign that it might be resurrected on the subsequent
Sunday as he wrapped it in a plastic bag and threw it
into the trash tomorrow it would be collected
by the garbage truck and dumped gradually buried
deep enough to not suffer any further indignity.
Tattoo Sonnet (after Charles Wright)
1.1 your burning organs encircled by fire
1.2 worms slither through sacks of bone meal
1.3 hammered and pinned against the silvered wall
1.4 one last time trapped between the mulch piles
1.5 sewing the skin back in place with twine
2.1 a teeming rain all day in the coniferous forest
2.2 arms raised by a multitude to appeal the sacrifice
2.3 throats much too dry for colloquial speech
2.4 empty bones brittle in an unplanned vaudeville
3.1 sounds ringing/echoing across the open valley
3.2 there was little opportunity to challenge the tendency
3.3 foaming mouths wet as the luminous tropics
4.1 all strength lost in a pair of broken hands
4.2 they were called back home via the bridle path
Paul Ilechko is a British American poet and occasional songwriter who lives with his partner in Lambertville, NJ. His work has appeared in many journals, including The Bennington Review, The Night Heron Barks, Southword, Permafrost, and The Inflectionist Review. His first book is scheduled for 2025 publication by Gnashing Teeth Publishing.
Image: schneiderjobs.com
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